Dangerously Predictable
by ImpracticalDemon
Summary: A fanwork exchange with Miss-Zei (Zeiyuu) of FFN and tumblr. Lucy may be putting too much faith in her own predictions. Or maybe Gray wants to trust too much to science and cold statistics? It can take these two a while to sort things out, especially since Lucy worries about bringing her father's wrath down on her friends. A Fairy Tail AU.


**Author's Note:**

 **Fanwork exchange with Miss-Zei of tumblr** (chibi art in exchange for Graylu story). You can also find Miss-Zei's writing here on FFN.

Modern AU

~Impracticaldemon

* * *

 **Dangerously Predictable**

* * *

Gray pushed back his chair and stretched, enjoying the pull on muscles that had been held too tight for too long. He scrubbed briefly at his eyes and then glanced back at the computer screen and the satisfying notation marking the end of a new chapter. As usual, he was torn between letting Lucy read it immediately and proofreading first.

"Not much chance she's up now anyway," he muttered to himself, squinting down at the time showing at the lower right of his screen. _But she might be_.

Lucy Heartfilia, best-selling author and sometime astrologer, kept strange hours. Gray had first gotten to know her years ago, in high school. Back then she had been the golden girl: blond, lovely both in face and spirit, a top student. On top of everything else, her family had money. Half the school had been in love with her and the other half had been bitterly jealous of her. Gray had been surprisingly oblivious to her at the time. A nerd through and through, the only thing he'd really cared about was keeping his grades high enough to get a scholarship to the university that housed the New Energy research laboratory.

They had met in the time-honoured way of protagonists in a teen-high-school-romance movie. Lucy had been sitting on the floor at the back of the school's dusty and little-used library, crying. Gray had gone looking for an obscure reference book that happened to be in the very corner of the library in which she sat. He still winced when he remembered his first words to her:

"Excuse me, but you're right in front of the section I need—could you move please?"

Instead of being annoyed by his insensitivity, Lucy had just nodded and slid to one side, drawing her knees up more tightly to her chest so as to be in the way as little as possible. Gray still wasn't sure what had gotten through to him—he thought it might have been the way that she had simply done as he asked, without protest or fuss. He remembered getting the book he'd come for and then hesitating, as it dawned on him to wonder why the school's most (and least) popular girl was sitting in the library in tears. Instead of leaving, he'd asked a second question:

"What's wrong? I'm Gray, by the way—Gray Fullbuster."

"Um, yeah, I know who you are," Lucy had replied, eying him cautiously. "We have at least two classes together. Besides, you're the one who's interested in cold fusion."

Gray had been a little surprised, to put it mildly. How had she known his guilty secret? Cold fusion had still been considered a crackpot idea by most physicists at that point.

He'd sat down with her, and they'd talked, and he'd learned that she'd lost her mother a few years earlier and that her dad now wanted her to give up her dream of writing in order to join the family business—with an option to take some kind of business degree concurrently or down the road. More accurately, he'd learned that she wanted to write—he hadn't known before, of course, since things like that had never impinged on him before then. Either way, they'd become friends.

He'd eventually found out that she'd known about the cold fusion thing because she was writing a novel that touched on the idea and she liked to research _thoroughly_. Mind you, the impressive thing had been that she'd figured out that "icemakewizard" from the cold fusion forums and chatrooms was him. It was a dumb, childish name, but he'd had it for so long even back in grade twelve that he'd been reluctant to give it up.

They'd been close friends throughout the rest of grade twelve, ignoring the teasing, taunting and outright confusion of their classmates. When Lucy was out on a date, it was Gray who had known where she was and with whom, and the one time that Lucy had gotten really uncomfortable it had been Gray who had borrowed his dad's car to come pick her up. Gray didn't go on dates, and it was a tribute to Lucy's willingness to let Gray be himself that after a couple of gentle nudges she'd stopped pushing.

Throughout that year, and the summer afterward, Gray had learned how to write (in Lucy's words). It had started when Lucy had ripped apart a major scholarship application he'd spent hours working on. It could have resulted in their first real fight; instead, Gray had sat at his computer studying Lucy's proposed changes and Lucy had lain on his neatly-made bed behind him explaining each one of them in turn until Gray was satisfied and Lucy had fallen asleep. He'd contemplated leaving her there and just crashing in the basement, but he'd known her dad would give her serious grief and she'd be embarrassed, so he'd swallowed his pride and asked his own dad what to do.

Silver hadn't been in Gray's life for very long at that point, and they'd still been sorting out what they thought of each other. However, it was Silver who'd gotten him to call one of Lucy's girlfriends so that when Gray drove her home at two in the morning, Levy could tell Lucy's dad that they'd all been out together and lost track of the time. Well, they had been out together—it was a longish drive from Gray's lower-income neighbourhood to Lucy's mansion on the outskirts of town. Levy, a petite firecracker with bookish tendencies and blue hair, had been surprisingly understanding about it all. They hadn't spoken much, since Levy had sat in the back with Lucy.

After that summer, the shit had hit the proverbial fan. Lucy had run away from home and her dad had blamed Gray. Gray had just tuned him out. Gray had known where Lucy was, and although he'd worried about her, he'd done his best to check in with her often. He wanted to keep her safe. It had become a lot more difficult to do once he'd started his degree in earnest, especially since he was in a different city. Unfortunately, Lucy's dad had a lot of pull and a lot of money; for a few years, he'd made things hard on everyone. Gray's grades and academic probity had been challenged at one point, and even Silver had faced strange "issues" at work. Eventually, Jude Heartfilia's tactics had gone from dirty to straight out violent.

Ultimately, Lucy had disappeared, and even Gray hadn't known where she'd gone. That had been a low point in his life. Sure, he'd eventually been able to stop watching out for hired thugs—he'd become pretty fit and competent at self-defence over the years—but that hadn't made up for the sudden absence of sunlight in his life. Or starlight, rather—Lucy had always loved the stars. Gray had loved Lucy, but he'd never spoken of it and neither had she. She'd always seemed destined for somebody with the kind of bright warmth that Gray lacked and Lucy herself had in abundance. He had been there to learn with and to rely on; if there was an intangible "something else" missing from the equation, such was life. But her absence hurt. The only thing that helped was when he wrote—then he felt closer to her again, somehow.

He'd found her again when she'd published her first best seller. She was living in a different part of the country and publishing under a different name, but he'd known it was her book the moment he'd scanned the first page. Sooner, really. After she'd disappeared, he'd taken to keeping an eye on the bestseller lists and hoping. She'd called the book "The Icemakers", and it had dealt in withering irony with the way that "rainmakers"—those indispensable individuals who brought in a business' richest clients and fattest contracts—would stop at nothing to make a deal. The "rain" might nurture the business, but it did nothing for human relationships. Gray had winced when he'd seen the title and read the description, but the dedication had made his heart leap with a sudden, not-quite-forgotten hope: "Icemaker, I miss you."

Shortly after that, Gray's first collection of short stories had been e-published—he'd worked night and day to move up the publication date. "Absolute Zero is Just Another Number" had been surprisingly popular, in a limited way. Nobody had understood the inscription: "The stars are cold without you."

Two days later he'd gotten an email that read: "You still aren't very good at poetry, ice wizard. I mean, what does that mean, anyway? Congratulations on the book." He'd stared at it for hours trying to decide what to do.

Eventually, he written back: "You always told me to be less terse. I miss you too. Congratulations on the best-seller. Not surprised."

He'd flown halfway across the country just to see her again. It had been a shock for both of them, really. Gray had filled out, and several years of periodically dodging Jude Heartfilia's thugs had gotten him into the habit of keeping extremely fit. Silver had approved of the change and helped him train. That had been… interesting. Lucy had only seen him in his late teens and very early twenties—she was gone by the time he really hit his stride and became "the hottest guy to have ice in his veins", as one eloquent admirer had eventually commented in despair.

Lucy, for her part, was even more beautiful than Gray remembered—and he'd tried to prepare himself—but what had caught him off-guard had been the strain on her face and the sadness in her eyes. She was still unmistakeably Lucy, but diminished somehow. Quieter, more tired, less bright. She should have been glowing with the success of her book.

Their meeting had been awkward. Lucy had obviously expected recriminations for her disappearance, but Gray had understood and forgiven her long since—almost from the beginning. Gray had seen Lucy's eyes widen when she'd seen him and they'd both realized that what she'd really wanted was his grade twelve self—unassuming and undemanding and far less threatening. They were both adults now, with far more experience of the world.

Once they'd both adjusted a little, Gray had learned about all the challenges that Lucy had faced over the five years since she'd disappeared. What had surprised him most was that Lucy's father had died recently, and Lucy deeply regretted not having had the chance to speak with him before the end. Bit by bit, over the course of their first reunion, Lucy had seemed to brighten, and by the time she had seen Gray off at the airport the next day she had looked so much like her former self that Gray had been reluctant to leave.

It had been the same the next two times they'd met: Lucy would look stressed when Gray arrived and be starting to relax by the time he left. Halfway through his fourth visit, Gray had told Lucy that he hadn't bought a return ticket. She'd looked at him for a long time and then commented that she'd already stocked up the fridge to feed two people and made up the guest room. It had a small attached bathroom with a shower. The perks of writing a best-seller, she'd said.

"There's no point in you paying for a hotel, or a separate apartment" she'd added, looking down. "And… thanks."

"What am I missing?" he'd asked, studying her closely. "I mean, it sounds like there've been ups and downs, but you seem—well, scared."

She'd put him off, and he'd given in easily and turned his mind to reorganizing his life. It wasn't until he'd been there over a month that she'd suddenly broached the subject.

They'd been sitting in his room. Or rather, Gray had been at his desk, typing on his laptop and Lucy had been stretched out on her back on his bed behind him. She seemed to love seeing him write—he supposed it was the feeling of having been the person who'd gotten him started. He'd been frowning at the screen, trying to pretend that he didn't know why he couldn't concentrate.

"They're always right. That's the problem."

Gray had given up on his writing immediately and gone to sit on the floor by the bed. After a moment's hesitation, he'd taken Lucy's hand, something that he'd done in the past when she'd been especially upset.

"What are always right?"

"My predictions—my fortune telling. Astrology just… works for me, whatever medium I use. Not that I see ghosts or anything… um. I can predict things about people and for some reason, they always come true. I hate it. It started happening when I first decided to do the fortune-telling as a part-time job to raise money—you know?"

He knew; she'd mentioned it briefly earlier. Lucy continued.

"I finally had to start giving vaguer answers. I wanted to be an author, not a full time astrologist! But even working in a third-rate tea-shop word about my predictions started to get around. I made good money at first, but then… then people started coming with terrible stories, tragic situations, and they all wanted to know "would it be okay?" and "how can avoid this terrible fate?" It was awful. Many of them couldn't pay but I felt like I needed to do the reading as some kind of public service…"

"Lucy…"

Her hand had clenched under his and he'd made a point of straightening it out again, finger by finger.

"That's why I moved away from the first city. It was a wrench—I'd chosen it specially to be a refuge, a place where I could write." Lucy's voice trembled slightly, even though she was by no means an easily frightened person. "And… that's it."

"Is it?"

There had been a long, long pause. Reluctantly, eyes fixed on Gray's face, Lucy had replied: "Not quite. I did a reading for you. I… missed you."

"And?" Gray had kept his voice deliberately detached, but his hand was wrapped firmly around Lucy's.

"It was very confusing. Your life would be in danger if we met each other again. But it would also be in danger if we didn't."

Gray had let out a long breath.

"Lucy, everyone's life is in danger every moment of every day. That's how it is. Life is dangerous. But it's worse if you make yourself too afraid to live at all, right? You told me that once. You always took the weirdest risks—"

"They weren't weird!"

"They weren't statistically probable—"

"You and your statistics!"

"You and your belief in luck!"

"And?" Lucy had turned to lie on her side so that it was easier to keep her eyes on Gray's.

"And you've usually been very lucky. Even when your life has gone to pieces—I mean, we actually survived quite a lot, when you put it all together. But I'll tell you what I think, if you'll hear me out."

Gray had wrapped his arms around Lucy, so that she was partially cradled against his chest. She had looked surprised, and then almost relieved. He'd waited to feel her nod before he'd gone on.

"I think it's time to give the astrology—the cards and all the rest of it—a miss. You've gotten pretty messed up since you left, Luce. See, I know you pretty well. My guess is that you left in the first place because you did a reading and it said I'd be in danger if we stayed together. But you panicked and didn't check the other half—not until much later. Am I right?"

There had been another nod against his chest and a mutter that had sounded suspiciously like a slightly teary "stupid intellectual show-off". With more courage than he'd known he had, Gray had bent down and kissed Lucy's hair.

"Well, this stupid, intellectual show-off—which doesn't make much sense, you know?—thinks we should go home. Together. Like, really together. There are people who'd love to see you. And, um"—deep breath—"I love you." When Lucy didn't move, but seemed to relax, Gray had continued doggedly. "So no more predictions, right or wrong. Let's be completely free to screw things up on our own—or not."

Lucy had struggled to sit upright and leaned her forehead against Gray's.

"So it's going to be you after all, huh? I kept thinking how being my friend had messed up your life."

"Stupid intellectual best-selling author."

"That… really didn't make any sense as an insult. Or just, at all."

Gray had ignored the comment. He'd traced his hands—very strong hands, Lucy had realized—around Lucy's face and then down along her neck. They'd both shivered slightly, although Gray's hands were cool, not cold. When his lips had touched hers, Lucy had found herself leaning into the kiss. It had gone on for some time.

* * *

 _Nah, she's probably awake_. Gray walked quietly into the apartment's spacious master bedroom. Lucy was lying in bed staring drowsily up at the ceiling. As soon as Gray walked in, she sat up, face brightening.

"New chapter right? I had a feeling your writing would go well this evening!"

Gray eyed her suspiciously. "A feeling?"

Lucy stuck out her tongue at him. "The Lady Heartfilia spoke with those who have passed," she said in sepulchral tones. "And they told her that the little plot difficulty with the Spatter-Latter Array would all work out…"

"The Matter—Anti-Matter Array, Luce. As if you didn't know."

"Oh, it was probably the spirits. They're not very interested in these things."

Gray studied Lucy, admiring the golden hair curling over one shoulder. He decided that he wasn't very interested either, right at the moment. The new chapter could wait. Probably better to read it over first anyway…

* * *

 **[END]**

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Thank you for reading!


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